Celebrating the sorrow
by After each Dawn
Summary: October 31, 1981. The dark night was illuminated with flashes of green. Oneshot


In the long hours of darkness when the hands on clocks were ticking softly, turning past 11:59 pm, into a new day, 12:00 am on the 1st of November, 1981, the Wizarding world was celebrating.

Owls were flying through the air, carrying urgent massages to family and friends. Bonfires were lit, with sparks flying high in the air, soaring like the newly restored hopes and spirits of the magical community.

"You–Know-Who is dead!" was the cry that rang from home to home, from person to joyous person. "He is gone!"

Diagon Alley was brimming with witches and wizards. Not a single frown could be seen among the throngs, as the gathered together to celebrate the disappearance of one of the most feared wizards in history. Lights shone from every shop and house. Florean Fortesque was making his way through the crowds, handing out free ice cream. The grin on his face was mirrored by the hundreds of others.

Other magical towns in Britain were also celebrating, but among them all, Hogsmeade was the most exhilarated. The villagers had left their houses, swarming out onto the streets. The Three Broomsticks was almost brimming over, and Rosemerta had her hands full passing out butterbeers and firewhiskeys right and left. Although her smile beamed as bright as ever, it seemed a little too happy, a little too bright. And added to the forced smile, Rosemerta's eyes were dark.

Walking into the pub, arm and arm, a couple was smiling. The woman had hair that was a mix between a blonde, and a dark red color. Her partner had pitch-black hair. When they approached the counter to grab drinks, Rosemerta paled, and her eyes became oddly bright as she turned around to get their butterbeer.

Along the well-worn path up to Hogwarts, the light dimmed, with only lanterns to provide it. Apart from the echoes from the village, all was silent. On the school grounds, past the iron wrought gate, a large hut stood. The windows were dark, but the person inside was not asleep. Cocking sobs drifted on the air as Hagrid sat on his bed and cried. He could still almost see them, sitting side by side on his couch, bickering as always…

_"C'mon. Lil, just one time!" The boy grinned at the red head sitting next to him, her legs slung across his lap. _

_ "For heaven's sake, James, _no_, I'm not going to go swim in the lake with you!"_

_ "But it's our last year here! Don't you finally want to do something daring, something exciting?"_

_ She looked at him incredulously, raising one slim eyebrow. "I'm your girlfriend. I think that's daring and exciting enough."_

_ James grinned as he always did when their relationship was brought up. "True." He leaned over and kissed her, still beaming. _

The echoes of the past disappeared and the darkness of the night returned and Hagrid sobbed anew.

* * *

><p>Like Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, Hogwarts had every light on. Light blazed out of the castle, creating a startling effect in the night.<p>

Throughout Hogwarts, teachers were gathering in groups. The newer professors, such as Madame Hooch, Sinistra, and Kettleburn were whispering excitedly together. After all these years, was the threat really gone for good?

But in a small, unused classroom, McGonagall, Flitwick, Slughorn, and Sprout were huddled together. All four wept, knowing that they would never see their favorite students again, the flash of her bright red hair, the twinkle in his hazel eyes, and their astounding love.

In a cold, stone dungeon, buried deep within the depth of Hogwarts, a shrouded figure stood. Shadow surrounded him, but the silent tears that dripped to the floor glittered with light.

In his office Dumbledore sat in the decorated chair behind his desk. His head was held in his hands, and tears were slowly disappearing into his silvery beard.

He wept for the love that had been so suddenly and cruelly broken.

He wept for the friendship that had now been broken beyond repair.

He wept for the boy, who would grow up without his parents love.

He wept for the world, and how so many people had sacrificed so much, but how no one would ever really know.

* * *

><p>A grey owl flew across the countryside. Barely visible was a scroll of parchment, attached to its left foot. Flocking the overcast skies, other birds flew, intent of delivering their own packages.<p>

The grey owl automatically scanned the ground below as it flew. A flicker in the long grass drew its luminescent yellow eyes, and without warning, the bird dove, intent of its prey.

With a startled squeal, a plump rat burst out of the foliage and streaked towards a burrow in the ground close by. The owl tracked the rodent, but knew that its message was far more important than a small snack. It gave one great flap of its wings, and rose up back into the air to rejoin its companions.

The rat slowed to a stop once it had reached the relative safety of the burrow. For the first time that night, he allowed himself to remember.

_"Wormtail. Will you be our secret keeper?"_

_ "My Lord, they have made me-"_

_ "Tell me now, Wormtail, _where do they live_?"_

"_Killed-"_

_ "James and Lily!"_

_ 'No!"_

One small teardrop trailed down through the rat's fur.

* * *

><p>The cell was the most heavily guarded in the whole fortress. Dementors glided past with unrelenting frequency, gorging themselves on the still fresh memories of their latest acquisition. The bars were coated with spells, but the idea of escape had not even crossed the prisoner's mind.<p>

Shadows caressed the face of the man who had fled from darkness his entire life. Ironic, as he was now imprisoned for the things he had been attempting to get out from under the shadow of. Being a Black just about amounted you to royalty in the Wizarding World, but he had never wanted the power or its price.

The one who had helped him escape from the ever-consuming Blackness had been a young boy, the same age as him, whom he had first meet on a compartment on the train heading to Hogwarts. Whiteout that little bit of goodness, finally seeing a gleaming pool of innocence and _light,_ he didn't think he would have had the courage to choose Gryffindor. He had never told James, that he was the one who had saved him from a path as dark and twisted as his brothers had been, or maybe even worse than Snape.

And now he never would. Now his dearest friend, his lifeline, the one who had accepted and healed and smiled, was gone.

Dead.

And with the death of James Potter, Sirius Black's soul died as well.

* * *

><p>Far away, in a small, decrypt cottage buried in the middle of a forest, a man collapsed. In a single night, his life had been ripped to shreds. Lily and James, the couple who had meant more to him than even his own life, were dead. Sirius Black, the one who had been his brother, had betrayed them all. And Peter Pettigrew, their little, innocent friend, had died a martyr.<p>

His friends, no, his brothers, who were the reason for his continued life, were gone. Turning his head up to the dark, unforgiving moon, he cried out a silent howl of anguish.

* * *

><p>The night of October 31, the Wizarding World celebrated.<p>

The Special Edition Dailey Prophet the next morning read,

_**YOU-KNOW-WHO VANISHED! HARRY POTTER THE BOY WHO LIVED!**_

On page 8, in a small box in the bottom right corner of the page, was a short list of names.

Lucia Fawcett

Robin Downy

James Potter

Lily Potter

Roger Browning


End file.
